No One Said It Was Easy
by Ally147
Summary: A year in the life of Misty Waterflower and Gary Oak was never going to be completely, totally normal. *Sequel to 'Sweeping the Sensational Set'* EgoShipping. GaryxMisty. CURRENTLY ON HIATUS - WILL RETURN SOON!
1. Prologue

Welcome to the sequel to 'Sweeping the Sensational Set'! *cue the fanfare and fireworks* If you haven't already, go read that first otherwise you'll be a little lost on the references in this story, but even if you have, read it again; it's new and improved since the edits and MUCH easier on the eyes! This prologue is quite short (and really quite average in comparison to what's planned for the rest of the story. If I can think of some way to improve upon it I will at some point but for now, I promise the following chapters will be much better) but it's really only here to set the scene and get the ball rolling, and it carries on exactly where STSS left off. And I don't know if anyone really cares, but this story will also encompass elements from the games as well as the anime.

Rated M for; mild sexual references and scenes, language, violence and other adult stuff I can't be too specific about without giving everything away.

**DISCLAIMER: **Still no. While I was between stories I didn't have time to start throwing my imaginary millions around to buy all the franchises I can only dream of owning.

'No One Said It Was Easy'

Prologue

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><p>"<em>What about you<em>_,__ Gary?" the Professor asked as he chewed a slice of carrot. "Your work with the Mantyke is done. Do you have any further research to continue with?"_

_Gary shook his head. "Nothing right now. I might give it a bit of a rest for the time being."_

"_If you're looking for something new, I may have a new project that might interest you."_

_Gary turned to Misty and gave a questioning look to which she nodded imperceptibly, dropping her hand beneath the table and lacing her fingers with his. Both grinning happily, they turned back to the curious sets of eyes trained upon them._

"_It's funny you should mention that…"_

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><p>His grandfather's eyes widened imperceptibly as he cut a sliver of his fish and popped it into his mouth. "Oh?" he said slowly after he had chewed and swallowed. "You already have a new project in mind?"<p>

"Something like that," Gary replied cryptically, smirking inwardly at the looks of bewilderment on the faces of their friends and family. "Not a project as such, but I'm sure it'll keep me busy for a little while."

"Well?" the Professor prompted exasperatedly. "Don't keep us in suspense, boy!"

"Yeah!" Ash piped up loudly before Gary could open his mouth. "Just tell us what's got you both acting so weird!"

"Don't you think, Ashy," Gary began in a drawl, "that you butting in like that isn't exactly conducive to me telling you anything?"

"Be nice," Misty muttered under her breath, kicking Gary lightly on the ankle for good measure.

"Gary," the elder Oak said warningly. "If you have something to say then please, just say it."

Gary's face lit up with a happy grin matched only by the one gracing Misty's features. He put his cutlery down, took a deep breath and, with the self-important air of someone about to make a life-changing proclamation, said, "I bought a house."

His grandfather's eyes widened comically. "You bought a house?" he repeated dully. "Where?"

"Kanto," Gary replied cheekily, relishing in the fact that he was still able to render his grandfather dumbstruck and speechless after so many years of being unable to shock him.

Professor Oak's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Care to be more specific?"

Gary looked over at Misty and grinned. "Cerulean City."

"You're moving in together?" Delia asked, clapping her hands together happily when they nodded in confirmation.

"Moving in together?" Ash repeated slowly. "_You're moving in together?"_

"You're moving in together?" May squealed excitedly from her seat further down the table. "When? Why wasn't I informed? Can I help with anything?"

Misty shook her head with a little giggle at May's enthusiasm. "There isn't much that needs doing, sorry."

May gave an indignant little huff and sat back down.

"What's the house like?" Delia asked, leaning forward in her seat with her chin resting in her hands. "Is it nice?"

"Very," Misty confirmed with a wide smile.

"Two storeys, close to the ocean and lots of space," Gary added as he wrapped an arm around Misty's shoulders. "Perfect."

"What about your house in Sinnoh?" Delia asked. "Is it still yours?"

Gary shook his head. "Not as of this morning. The final paperwork came through today."

"You should have mentioned something, Gary," Professor Oak said in reproach, pushing his now empty plate away from him. "What were you going to say to us when you came by and moved everything from your room? 'Don't mind me, just moving out!'?"

Gary blushed slightly and looked down at his plate. "I was going to tell you soon," he muttered.

"Well, Sam," Delia began awkwardly, placing a placating hand on her husband's arm. "Gary is twenty-four, and he'll have access to his trust in less than a year. Does it really matter if he didn't tell you? He's lived away from home consistently since he was ten, after all."

He sighed and placed his free hand over his wife's. "You're right, as usual. But Gary," he turned to his grandson once more, "something along the lines of 'I'm looking for a new place to live' wouldn't go astray in the future."

"I'm sorry," Ash said, shaking his head. "Can we get back to the part where they're going to be _living together?" _

With a huff, Gary leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "Care to point out exactly where that concerns you, Ketchum? I seem to be missing something."

Ash gesticulated wildly, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "I just… she's my best friend and… she's… with you, and…"

"It's not a big deal, is it?" Misty asked softly, looking over at him. "I mean, I thought we were past all this."

Ash immediately looked chastised and stared down at his plate. "It's not a big deal," he murmured. "I just worry about you."

"What about the Gym?" Brock asked, cutting through the tension. "What happens to it now that you're moving out?"

"I still own it," Misty said as she turned her attention back to her food. "Not that I ever would have sold it. And I'll still be the leader; I just won't be living there anymore. I've thought about renting it out or something, though."

"Did your sisters have anything to say about it?" he continued conversationally.

"They still haven't returned any of my messages," she muttered darkly. "I told them everything two weeks ago! At this point I really don't think they care. I guess they'll find out if they ever bother to visit again."

"And you, Gary?" Brock went on. "What will you be doing?"

"There's a small lab up on the cape," Gary said before taking a sip of his wine. "I talked to the professor there and he's agreed to take me on as an apprentice."

"An apprentice?" the elder Oak repeated blandly. "Apprentice what? You are far more experienced than most of the other fully qualified professors in this region could dream of being, why ever would you need to be an apprentice?"

"This lab doesn't deal with anything I've had experience with," Gary said as a flash of excitement crossed his face. "This lab deals with Cerulean Cave."

"Cerulean Cave?" Ash yelped. "I've never been in there," he muttered dejectedly.

"Me neither," Gary said with a smirk. "But apparently the rules can be bent for a select few."

"But you've won the Indigo League," Misty said to Ash confusedly. "I thought that was all you needed for entrance to the cave."

"The rules changes about two years ago," Ash said gloomily, stirring his food around his plate. "It's kind of like a nature reserve now. No training or battling allowed, nothing that might disturb the natural order. Only scientists," he finished dolefully.

"As fascinating as all this sounds, Gary," the Professor cut in dryly, "are you both absolutely certain that this is what you want? I would hate for either of you to regret this decision later."

"We've talked about it," Gary said reassuringly.

"At length," Misty added with a roll of her eyes.

"And… I'm not sure how to explain it, but it feels like the right thing to do," Gary said with a shrug. "Plus it was a real challenge getting her out of the house again once I'd showed it to her," he added with a grin.

"So does that mean with have something… _else_ to look forward to in the near future?" Delia asked slyly.

Ash choked on his water as Gary and Misty coughed and spluttered.

"No!" Misty exclaimed, far louder than she intended.

"Absolutely not!" Gary said emphatically, shaking his head resolutely.

"I mean, one day… maybe…"

"Far, far down the line…"

"The idea of being with Gary long term isn't exactly a horrible one…"

"And Red's a great catch herself…"

"I do love him and all…"

"And I love her too…"

"But not now."

"Good God, I should bloody well hope not!"

Delia blinked at the pair in bewilderment as their shared outburst came to a stop, while everyone else seated at the table looked on curiously. Misty pushed her plate away and began pulling at the loose strands of glitter woven into the fabric of the tablecloth while Gary picked up his wine glass and downed the remaining contents in one gulp, both determinedly avoiding each other's gaze.

Brock broke the awkward silence with a chuckle. "So I take it there won't be a wedding or the pitter-patter of little feet anytime soon then?"

"One step at a time, Rock boy," Gary said weakly. "We've barely been together six months. It was tricky enough getting her to agree to live with me in the first place!"

"And who knows? After living with him for a week I might want to tear his head off," Misty added, looking up from the table.

"We do clash," Gary agreed, nodding fervently. "One of us being murdered by the other is a definite possibility."

"Nonsense! I'm certain that won't be the case," Delia said warmly. "It's obvious you're both perfect for each other. Now, are we all ready for dessert?"

She gave a little wave and a great bustle erupted around the table as waiters who were standing patiently on the side emerged. Loud clattering filled the air as the dinner plates and platters were taken by the servers and replaced with delicate silver bowls and forks in preparation for dessert. As individual drinks were being refilled, Gary took advantage of the noise and commotion to wind an arm around Misty's shoulders again, subtly leaning in to her side to speak in her ear.

"Sorry about all that, Red," Gary whispered.

"It's not your fault," she replied, just as softly. "I shouldn't have expected anything less."

"It was a fairly typical Delia reaction," he agreed before pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "For what it's worth, I do want those things with you. One day, when we're ready."

"One day," she repeated with a warm smile, disengaging from his touch long enough for a server to set a slice of cake in front of her. "God, could you imagine? Us, married, now?"

"It's not that horrible a thought, is it?" he asked as his mouth closed over his fork, his eyes closing in bliss as he savoured the creamy confection. "I mean, I'm not proposing now or anything, but I don't think marriage one day is entirely out of the question."

Misty looked up from her cake and looked around the table, making sure everyone was well occupied with their cake before she continued on in the same low tone as before. "Not at all, but having people talk about us as though we're eloping tomorrow is a little daunting, don't you think?"

"I bow to no one, Red," he said with a wink. "Except perhaps to you, of course. I don't care what people whisper behind our backs, or what they whisper to our faces for that matter. You shouldn't either."

She sighed heavily, cutting away a sliver of cake with the edge of her fork. "I know that."

"Good," he said with a smile. "Now, since this is not the time or place for this discussion, eat your cake. I swear there has never been anything so delicious in my mouth."

"I'm going to take the high road on this one and not make one of the many jokes you just set me up for," Misty said dryly, gently piercing a portion of the cake with her fork and bringing it to her lips.

He grinned knowingly when he heard a delighted little moan escape her. "I take it nothing so delicious has been in your mouth either, then?"

She glared at him before turning to Delia and smiling sweetly. "This is wonderful," she said as she took another bite.

"Isn't it, though?" Delia crowed happily. "Sam and I were tossing up between this and a tiramisu cake, but in the end we decided that you can't go wrong with chocolate, not to mention Sam drinks close to a dozen cups of coffee a day on his own already."

"Researcher thing," Gary and Professor Oak said in unison, not looking up from their plates.

"Yes, because certainly nobody outside of your little bubble touches the stuff," Misty deadpanned.

Delia sighed and set down her fork. "You're fighting a losing battle, dear. I can't have a cup of coffee anymore without being asked why I'm having it. God forbid I might actually like the taste," she added with a glare at her husband.

"When you're drinking so many cups of coffee a day just to keep yourself alert that it becomes a habit rather than a desire, you begin to doubt that anyone could like the taste, let alone drink it by choice," the Professor replied distractedly.

"Ungodly stuff," Gary agreed with a definitive nod.

"I may have exaggerated when I said it was a toss-up," Delia said with another pointed glare at her husband. "I wanted tiramisu, Sam wanted chocolate. It wasn't so much a difference of opinion as it was an all-out argument."

"So why did you end up agreeing on the chocolate then?" Misty asked as she took another heavenly bite.

Delia blushed while the Professor smirked widely.

"Never let Gary get the upper hand on you, dear," Delia said wearily. "If he's anything like his grandfather, you'll never hear the end of it."

"Hey!" Gary exclaimed, sounding affronted.

"God, mum!" Ash groaned. "We're trying to eat!"

"It looks like you're still succeeding," Misty said wryly, arching an eyebrow at the two empty plates beside Ash and the half-full one in front of him as he glared at her.

"Oh, but enough about the damn cake and who eats what and how!" May leaned forward in her seat and rested her chin in her hand and her elbow on the table. "Tell me more about your house!"

Gary smirked at his sister. "It's not unlike your own. It has walls and a roof, and a floor too if I'm not mistaken. Very house-y."

May's eyes narrowed at her brother. "Cute. But really, what's it-"

"May, I think Gary and Misty have faced more than enough interrogation for one evening," the Professor said with a small smile. "Besides, I think we've all forgotten why we're here tonight!"

The professor gave a loud clap, and the servers who had disappeared off to the side once more came back into sight to clear the table. A quiet click from somewhere in the background was followed by the opening bars of an upbeat instrumental melody. The professor flashed a charming smile and extended a hand towards his wife, who giggled and blushed girlishly before allowing herself to be whisked to a makeshift dance floor to be twirled by her husband.

Gary watched as Ash guarded his cake plate from the servers with a tenacity better suited to a dog with a bone and grimaced. He took a deep breath and, with an air of someone resigned to a horrible fate, turned to Misty and asked, "Would you like to dance?"

Misty quirked an eyebrow and gave a wry smile. "Why do you look like you just asked if I had something to do with the murder of your puppy?"

He groaned. "Not much of a dancer, really."

"Then why ask?"

Gary shrugged and glanced back over at Ash, suppressing a shudder when he saw Ash licking the plate clean.

"'Cause that's gross to watch."

"How romantic," Misty replied sarcastically.

"And I thought you might like to dance with me, of course," he added with his most winning smile.

Misty snorted derisively as she took Gary's hand, stood, and pulled him after her. "That stupid attitude and smile don't work on me, you know."

"Never hurts to try," he said with a wink as he moved to take the lead of their dance. "Besides, it got you up here, didn't it?"

Misty huffed but allowed herself to be pulled flush against him. "So, I suppose I can thank your grandfather for that great, big ego of yours. Wouldn't have picked it if I hadn't seen it."

"He usually keeps it so well hidden, too." Gary chuckled. "My mother was actually the egotistical one, if you'd believe it. Dad, not so much from what I've been told."

Misty laughed. "Was she really? What did she do?"

"She was a doctor," Gary replied with a small, wistful smile. "Very smart woman. Apparently she let my dad know about it too, all the time." He paused to laugh gently. "And my dad was so ridiculously in love with her that he just let her."

Misty smiled softly. "I'd like to have known them," she said quietly.

"I don't remember either of them very well," Gary said after a quiet moment's thought. "But I think mum would have liked you. You're a bit like her from what I can remember. And for that my dad probably would have liked you, too."

Misty smiled again. "I wish I could say the same, but I really don't know what my parents would make of you."

He snorted derisively. "After what you've told me about them I don't think I'd really give a shit about their opinion of me anyway."

"Language, Gary," Delia chided in a dreamy sort of tone that indicated her heart wasn't really in the chastisement as she was spun past them.

"Do you think we'll be alright?" Misty asked moments later in a whisper as she looked up at him with wide, owl-like eyes. "Living together, with all our crap and you being an egotistical arsehole and me being… me. We'll be okay, won't we?"

Gary smirked, looking down at her with a quick wink. "Only one way to find out."

**-XXX-**

"Mac, I think I've found him again."

"Hmm, he's a slippery one, isn't he?" Mac took the binoculars from her counterpart and brought them up to her eyes. "Sure looks like him, same stupid headband. Ugh, is he _still_ crying?"

The man beside her stretched and yawned. "We've been tailing him for weeks now and he hasn't stopped the waterworks yet."

"He hasn't led us anywhere near the target, either." She sighed and dropped the binoculars and turned to her partner. "You don't suppose they had a falling out, do you, Potts? That might explain why he's never made a move."

"Might even be better if he has," Potts said as a shark-like grin spread across his weathered features. "He could be more… amendable, if he's sad or angry."

Mac gave him a surprised look. "You think we should engage?"

He shrugged. "Tailing him hasn't gotten us anywhere. Might be time to get a little more direct."

She pondered his words as she turned and looked through the binoculars to over the lake where the young man was sitting on a large rock at the bank. She watched as he quickly wiped his nose on his sleeve before reaching into the backpack at his side and pulling out a sketch pad and a pencil. His hands worked furiously on the paper in long, broad strokes of lead until he looked ready to break down again, tearing the paper away and balling it up before throwing it into the murky water with a look of utter loss and shame on his face. He stood slowly, staring out over the water before backing away into the woods behind him, unashamedly wiping more tears from his eyes as he went.

"He's moving again," she said, stowing the binoculars in her bag.

Potts sighed and stood, heaving his own heavy bag around his shoulders. "Does he ever stop for more than twenty minutes?"

"Apparently not," Mac replied dryly. "But I'm starting to think you might be right."

"About being direct, you mean?"

She nodded. "We've been tailing this dweeb for weeks now, and we haven't got a damn thing to show for it! He hasn't even tried to go anywhere near the target! Maybe we ought to try a new approach before the boss calls us in next."

Potts shuddered at the thought of their boss as they set off in pursuit of their current game once more. "Maybe you're right," he said as he exhaled heavily.

"Wait." She stopped in her tracks and pointed out to the water where the discarded piece of paper had come apart from its ball to float in the shallow waters. "Look."

"Yeah," he said gruffly as he came to a halt beside her. "So what?"

"So there might be something important on it," she snapped impatiently. "Go get it."

He sighed resignedly and kicked his shoes off before wading the few metres out and picking up the soggy piece of paper. He turned it over, careful not to rip it, and inspected the faded sketch, a malevolent grin spreading across his face as he looked at it.

"Well?" Mac asked irritably. "What is it?"

Still smirking, he waded back and handed over the sketch of a smiling young woman with an Azurill perched on her shoulder. "A way in."

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>The inspiration for the action side of this story actually came from a guest reviewer over on STSS, so unfortunately I can't thank them properly, but if you remember who you are and you're reading this, thank you very much! This would have been a dull story without your input!

I can't guarantee regular updates. I have the first chapter after this one written but the others have been slow to come together. I have a solid plan, but putting it down and fleshing it out has been sort of difficult, that and my mind is everywhere at the moment. Hopefully it'll all come together soon.

Reviews are very much appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 1: January

Hello all! Thank you for the wonderful response to this story so far :) And apologies for the late update – there are many reasons why this was left hanging, but I'll explain the main one at the end, not to mention the fact that this chapter is the longest I have ever written for any story, clocking in at just a hair under 12,000 words (Holy cricket!)! And unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on you preferences), this will likely be the average length of all forthcoming chapters.

This chapter follows on six months after the events of the prologue. Each forthcoming chapter covers select events that happen in Misty and Gary's life over the course of one month for the duration of one year, so 12 chapters plus the prologue and an epilogue.

Special thanks to **evillivevile **for her (at least, I think it's a her…) insight regarding Tracey for this chapter.

Portions in italics are flashback sequences.

**DISCLAIMER: **Yesterday, I finished making a Charmander amigurumi plushie. I now own a Charmander, but to get it, I had to make it. There is a logical parallel that can be drawn here, however it is late and I'm tired, and not as eloquent at 2am as I might be at any other time so I can't make it right now.

'No One Said It Was Easy'

Chapter One: January

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><p>It had been tumultuous. It had been marred by missteps and misunderstandings aplenty that resulted in reactions that went to the ends of all extremes. It hadn't even taken twenty-four hours of cohabitation before some grating thing of little or no consequence had them yelling and screaming at each other in one of the most explosive arguments they had ever had.<p>

The make-up sex that had followed, however, had been incredible.

Some days though there was nothing else for it but to simply ask himself just what the hell he had been thinking when he had first made the suggestion of moving in together, because surely he hadn't _willingly_ invited such chaos into his life. And yet, as he pondered the highs and lows and weighed the pros and cons of living with someone just as bat shit crazy as Misty could be, he couldn't recall a time when he had ever been happier.

Coming up on their one-year anniversary (and his birthday), Gary was finally beginning to feel like he and Misty had settled into a comfortable routine with each other. Every morning one would prepare breakfast for the other, depending on who awoke first, in keeping with their long-standing tradition. By seven Misty would have left for work, leaving Gary with another hour to get ready in solitude. If their schedules permitted they would meet for lunch, if not then they usually didn't see each other again until dinnertime. Saturdays were for their day for relaxation as both had agreed that unless it was of the utmost importance neither would ever bring work home. Sundays were dedicated to the home they kept; cleaning from top to bottom before doing their grocery shopping for the week.

For Gary, the biggest shock was how much he liked the domesticity of the situation. Not once had he ever imagined sharing his, well… _everything_ with a woman, but now that he was he couldn't imagine it being any other way. He supposed it stemmed from the fact that Misty wasn't just any woman.

That very fact alone had Gary clamouring for ideas for what to do for their anniversary. After all, one whole year of her putting up with his intolerable arse (and vice versa) was an occasion worth celebrating in his opinion. It didn't much help matters much that, even at the best of times, Misty was a difficult woman to be in love with. He had to fight her for control at every turn, and she maintained a fierce hold of her independence that she seemed unlikely to relinquish any time soon. Not to mention she was annoying, loud, stubborn, violent, temperamental, argumentative and infuriatingly smug (or sexy, depending on his mood at the time) when she was actually right, which happened on a maddeningly regular basis.

And she didn't like carrots. Who the fuck didn't like carrots?

But those things didn't compare to the fact that she was kind, gentle (when it suited her, at least), fiercely loyal, compassionate, funny, intelligent, not to mention utterly gorgeous. One thing he particularly appreciated was how much thought went in to everything she did for him. He came home in a shitty mood because half his equipment at work decided to up and die on the same day? She sat him down on the sofa and massaged his shoulders, back, and even lower until work was the farthest thing from his mind. He felt like spaghetti for dinner? Guess what was on the table the next night. He one day randomly expressed an unfulfilled childhood desire to learn to ice skate. Only last month, at Christmas, she took him to Cerulean Park and taught him to skate on the frozen pond while soft, powdery snow fell around them. So many little things added up to make her the most considerate, wonderful person he had ever known.

"_Where are we going, Red?" he asked, groping blindly at the cold air around him for a hint to their surroundings and finding nothing. "It's cold out."_

"_It's a surprise," she answered cryptically, tightening her hold on his arm as she led him through the soft snow. "And don't bitch; it's winter. What did you think the weather would be like?"_

"_So long as our… activities," he replied in a low purr, "are suited to the temperature I don't much care what the weather is like. However, you're taking me for a leisurely blindfolded stroll in the snow to God knows where, and I'd like a reason why."_

"_Ever the scientist," she quipped with a laugh. "Can't you do something just for the enjoyment? Do you really have to question me like that?"_

_His answering grumble was followed by a loud yell as he stumbled on a particularly soft patch and fell arse first to the wet ground._

"_Damn it, Red, will you take the fucking blindfold off now?" _

_He heard her bite back a giggle and he rolled his eyes behind the black piece of cloth._

"_I told you already, it's a surprise, and we're almost there anyway." She took his hand and pulled him upright once more. She brushed the snow from his behind (a little too thoroughly, but far be it from him to complain if she wanted to cop a feel) and took his arm again, leading him a short distance before coming to a halt._

"_Are we there yet?" he asked with a smirk, unable to prevent the childish rejoinder from falling from his lips. He felt the movement of deft fingertips at the back of his head and a cold rush of air sting his eyes as the blindfold came undone, leaving him standing before a large frozen pond in what he recognised as the park where he and Misty had first struck up their odd friendship a year and a half ago._

_He eyed the scene with confusion. "Granted, I'm no authority, but I don't think you can just give me a pond," he said with a teasing smile._

_Misty rolled her eyes and brushed the snow off a nearby bench and sat down. "Don't be ridiculous." She shrugged the bag she was wearing on her shoulder to the ground and pulled out a pair of ice skates. Holding them out towards him, she asked, "You still want to learn?"_

_At his silent, wide eyed, open-mouthed shock she went on, "Remember telling me you wanted to learn to skate when you were a boy?" she prodded. "You said you hated watching Ash skating with Delia but you were too stubborn to ask them to teach you."_

"_I tried when they were gone," he mumbled. "Didn't think that bruise on my arse would ever disappear."_

"_After some very thorough investigation, I can tell you with certainty that it has," she returned cheekily. "But seriously; would you still like to learn?"_

_Gary nodded mutely, stepping forward and sinking down on the bench beside her. He slid on the boots she gave him and wiggled his toes, satisfied that they fit. He watched as she demonstrated the proper way to lace the skates and bit back a smirk when she kneeled in front of him to tie his._

"_Don't even think about it," she warned without looking up, making him laugh._

"_Wouldn't dream of it, Red."_

_She stood confidently in her skates and held out her hand to balance him as she carefully pulled him up. Almost immediately, he stumbled and fell to the snow again._

"_If you knew we were going to be out in the snow and on ice then why the hell did you let me wear jeans?" he asked exasperatedly as she helped him up again, wiping at the now saturated spots on the backs of his legs._

"_Honestly? I didn't even think of it until you slipped before," she admitted sheepishly. "Sorry. Now," she held both his hands in hers and slowly walked backwards, "keep your eyes on me, and walk forward."_

_He clutched her hands tightly and mirrored her steps towards the ice. He cast a surreptitious glace around the park, making sure no one was watching._

"_I promise you, we're the only ones here," Misty reassured._

"_Good," Gary mumbled. "I'd hate to have to kill any witnesses."_

_Misty looked up at him with amusement, finally stepping onto the ice. "You aren't being anywhere near as arrogant about this as I thought you would be."_

_He snorted derisively, moving his hands higher up her arm to grip just under her elbows. "I fell on my arse when I was just walking in boots. It's safe to say I'm not going to master skates anytime soon." He moved to take a tentative step towards Misty and immediately slipped, taking her down to the ice with him. _

"_I see what you mean," Misty said dryly as she pushed herself to her feet and extended a hand. "Up you get."_

_With all the trepidation one might employ to walk a tightrope over a canyon, Gary slowly stood on shaky legs like a newborn Ponyta and carefully inched one foot forward, then the other, in short, erratic motions._

"_Careful," Misty said lightly, dropping one of his hands to move around to his side and hold his shoulder. "Relax your legs, don't jerk around so much. Think graceful thoughts."_

_He wanted so very much to sneer at her and say the scathing retort that was on the tip of his tongue, but the bit the urge down. Instead, he took a deep breath and tried to relax his body enough to allow his legs to kick out a little further._

"_You're doing it!" Misty trilled happily. "Think you can do it on your own now?"_

"_I think so," he replied tightly, his face the very picture of concentration as he began to slowly, but surely, glide across the ice._

_The pond wasn't large. It had a diameter of about six or seven metres. With no surrounding boundary and a limited surface area he spent more time on the ground than he did upright, but it did little to contain the child-like sense of joy that was bubbling up inside him. He was skating! It might have seemed silly to anyone else, but it was the realisation of a dream he'd had for twenty years. He cast a glance at Misty who was confidently circling the perimeter of the ice, quite literally skating circles around him. He was struck at that moment by just how incredibly serene and carefree she looked, her hair aflame against the white around them, framed by the powdery snow that had begun to fall._

_He remembered a fantasy Misty had confided in him, a rather interesting one if he did say so himself, involving snow, a ski chalet, a fur rug, a roaring fire and the creative use of warm chocolate sauce. He may not have been able to tick all the boxes off at that moment, but for what she had given him today, he could sure as hell give her that ardent, passionate kiss in the snow he knew she had daydreamed about._

_Sheer determination drove him the short distance across the ice to where Misty was observing him with an amused smile on her face. Without so much as a word of warning, he drew her into his arms (fighting valiantly for his balance too while he was at it) and pressed his lips to hers with a soft pressure, taking advantage of her surprised gasp to deepen the kiss by making lush sweeps of her tongue with his own. He moved his arms to wrap around her waist and stroke up and down her back through her thick layers of clothing while hers reached up to wind around his neck._

_They stayed like that for immeasurable minutes, stilled on the ice while the snow fell around them, lost to everything but each other in the utterly perfect moment._

Their relationship wasn't all sunshine and rainbows though; when she wasn't catering to his childish whims or making him feel like the luckiest sod in the world just because she was with him, living together was like pulling teeth.

Gary had known it was going to be difficult. To have two people with such similar personalities yet so completely different in thoughts and beliefs living under one roof was going to be incendiary at the best of times. When they argued, it was explosive, sometimes ending in violence on Misty's part or him storming out because he simply didn't trust himself to be in the same room as her a moment longer without saying something he'd regret. The worst part about these arguments was the fact that they were rarely over something that was even all that important. Hell, one of their worst arguments had occurred a few days before they had moved in and couldn't agree on what colour to paint the master bedroom. Though after what had felt like hours upon hours of throwing vindictive barbs at each other, his trademark charm had saved the day.

"_I think yellow would look nice in here," Misty commented idly as she walked the perimeter of the large master bedroom. "Bright and cheery."_

"_Is 'bright and cheery' really something you want to go for in a bedroom, though?" Gary asked, dropping a stack of books to the floor. "I mean, surely you'd want something relaxing, like a blue-green sort of colour."_

"_Why, because I'm a water trainer?" she asked jokingly, though there was an underlying defensive edge to her tone._

_Gary shook his head. "I just like the colour is all."_

"_We both have to live here, you know," she said heatedly. "Why should we go with a colour you chose?"_

"_What, you don't like blue-green?" he retorted challengingly. "Every room over at your Gym is that colour."_

"_Does it even matter?" she screeched. "You've already decided what colour you want and you don't even care what I think! It's unreasonable!"_

"_Did I even say I'd made a decision? Do you see any cans of paint waiting around here? All I said was that I liked the damn colour! If anyone's being unreasonable right now, it's you!"_

_He knew that had been the wrong thing to say but he hadn't been able to help himself. He watched with a determined expression as her eyes widened comically and began to pluck various items from the floor, starting with books, and threw them at his head._

"_Stop that, you mad woman!" Gary yelled, shielding his head with flailing arms._

_She paused throwing the books, and he could have sworn he saw a vein at her temple pulse with anger. "Mad woman?" she repeated shrilly._

_There was definitely something wrong with him when the sight of her positively sparking with righteous anger like that had him twitching happily in his pants._

"_Sane people sure as fuck don't throw books, so yes. For now, you're a mad woman."_

"_Of course I am!" she ranted sarcastically, tossing more books his way__.__ Subconsciously, he reveled in the way she became completely unhinged, even if she was causing him bodily harm. "You said it, so it must be true. The great Gary Oak is never wrong after all, is he?"_

"_Your words, not mine," he said smugly, ducking wildly as another book made its mark._

_For what felt like hours, the argument raged until eventually she ran out of ammunition and scathing remarks to throw at him, and he found himself lost for words too. She was still breathing heavily and staring at him with wide, angry eyes when he inched his way forward and took her wrists in hand, preventing her from resorting to more physical harm against his person._

"_I hate yellow," he told her very seriously. "It looks like vomit."_

"_Oh yeah?" she retorted with that heart-stopping, spitting defiance of hers. "And what so fantastic about frickin' blue-green?"_

_He held her strongly against her struggling and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "It's the colour of your eyes."_

_She froze, looking at him with wide, unblinking eyes and her chest heaving with anger. He braced himself for an impact against his cheek that never came, instead falling backwards to the pile of carpet swatches on the floor as she eagerly leapt into his arms and crushed her lips to his. _

_She frantically tore at his clothes and then her own, and before he knew it she was pressed against his chest and lowering herself upon him before he could even register what was happening._

_Some people might even consider this rape._

_Gary growled and gripped her hips so tightly she might bruise. He flipped her onto her back and drove relentlessly in and out of her at a pace that had them both teetering on the edge of oblivion and near exhaustion in minutes._

_Her moans and clawing hands spurred him on, but no words of encouragement passed her lips. She climaxed with a cry and tightened around him almost painfully, drawing his own release from him. He stilled above her for a moment and reached down to brush her sweaty strands of hair away from her eyes._

"_No yellow," he said raggedly._

"_And I don't care why you like it, I don't want blue-green," she replied breathlessly__._

"_Fine." He leaned down and kissed her softly. "We'll think of something else then."_

In the end though, after a long process of looking at different colour swatches and sample cans of paint, their walls were painted an arctic white, for a "clean and fresh look," Misty had said, though after two weeks even the most minute and inconspicuous of stains were obvious to all and sundry.

Despite the fact that he now equated their arguments to a rather bizarre sort of foreplay, Gary doubted he could have asked for much more. He got to wake up next to a beautiful, amazing, considerate woman whom he loved every morning, he had a job he enjoyed and was brilliant at and for the first time in his life, he actually felt happy and content with where he was at; he hardly drank anymore unless the social occasion called for it, there was no more odd hollowness in his chest.

Whatever it was he had been looking for, he was certain he had finally found it.

**-XXX-**

What do you buy the man who has everything?

Misty had absolutely no idea.

Clothes? Uninspired.

A book? She refused to add to the thousands he already owned.

A gift voucher? Now she was just being lazy.

Jewellery? Maybe. That leather cord he wore around his neck was looking pretty ratty these days.

Herself swaddled in skimpy lace? Hell, that was already a given, wasn't it?

With a sigh, she shook her head and tried to focus her attention on the stacks of forms in front of her. She scribbled her signature distractedly on the papers that called for it, she wrote pertinent information into others, she folded and shoved others into envelopes that she'd have to send before she went home for the evening; it was almost mechanical the way she went about her job. She wasn't at all sure how she felt about that.

She stopped and groaned once she realised she was writing her Gym stats for the month in her badge order form and tossed her pen to the desk.

It didn't seem at all right to her sensibilities that she should be so distracted by what to buy Gary for an anniversary slash birthday gift. It should be a slightly lingering concern at the back of her mind, not an all-consuming worry that ate at her without any regard for where she was or what she was doing. She liked to think she knew Gary better than anybody, save perhaps for his grandfather and sister; it shouldn't be so damn difficult to come up with something!

But then again, she was probably overthinking it. He'd told her once that he appreciated her gestures that let him know she cared and listened more than any material gift she could offer, so maybe that was her answer?

Then it hit her. She thought back to an instance with Gary only two weeks ago.

_He walked through the door looking so utterly despondent she thought someone must have died._

"_Gary?" she began tentatively, moving from her spot on the sofa to meet him at the door. "Is something wrong? Are you hurt?"_

"_It's Cherry," he croaked. "She's…"_

_He looked to be on the verge of tears while she simply deflated, completely underwhelmed. "Sit down," she said with a sigh, pushing him towards the chair. "You want something to eat? Drink?"_

_He shook his head morosely and fell upon the cushions with an indelicate thump._

_She took a seat beside him, reaching over his contorted body to run her fingers soothingly through his hair. "What happened to Cherry?" she asked calmly._

"_She… so much smoke…"_

_Misty hummed sympathetically and continued her comforting movements back and forth over his scalp while Gary closed his eyes and relaxed under her touch, falling asleep minutes later._

Since that day, something looked like it had been missing from Gary. He hadn't been strutting right, and it looked like something was missing but for the life of her, Misty hadn't been able to tell what it was. All she knew was that it was a truly pitiful sight, on a par with Ash when he lost his Gym badges.

She couldn't bring herself to roll her eyes or tell him to 'snap out of it' either. For Gary, Cherry was his last tangible tie to his late father, and a reminder of better times and of a more innocent life, not to mention a focal point to look forward to as well. She would never forget the day he told her, with a dazzling grin upon his face, that he couldn't wait for the day that they would have a son who could help him tinker with the car and do other so-called 'manly' things with, everything he hadn't had the opportunity to do with his own father. After she had worked her jaw back up to its rightful place, she had to admit she was rather looking forward to that too.

Since Cherry had broken down he had barely even gone to look at the car, let alone make arrangements to have it repaired or even to try to fix it himself like she knew he probably could, sodding genius that he was. She did catch him on occasion staring at the shed where the car was housed but he seemed truly hesitant to actually make the move to find out if the car was repairable or not.

It was lucky for her that Brock was, among other things, a damn fine mechanic.

She didn't know quite how Brock managed to juggle his many abilities, much less find the time to master them all, but whenever she wanted to pull the proverbial rabbit out of a hat, he was the man to go to.

Deciding that there was no way she was going to get anymore paperwork done with the many possibilities for Gary's gift dancing a jig before her eyes, she picked up her phone and dialed the familiar numbers of Brock's Pewter City residence.

The phone rang once, twice, three times before a sleepy voice said, _"Hello?"_

"You sound tired," Misty commented amusedly. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"_Shit boring paperwork. If anything__,__ you've saved me. What's up?"_

"I need a favour."

"_I'm going to need more to go on than that, Misty."_

"Cherry died."

There was a moment of silence. _"Cherry? The mid-life crisis car Gary inexplicably had when he was a kid?"_

"It was his dad's," Misty said curtly. "Either way, it's… I don't know… do cars break?"

Brock chuckled. _"They break down, sure."_

Misty rolled her eyes. "Well, whatever cars do when they die, Cherry did it. I'd like you to have a look at it."

"_Why not take it to an actual mechanic?"_ Brock questioned. _"Surely that'd be a safer bet than having me poke around in it."_

"I trust you more," she replied simply. "Besides, Gary will know if I take Cherry somewhere. At least if you can come over and have a look at it for me, he won't suspect."

"_And why exactly are we doing this under a cover of darkness? Surely Gary wants the car fixed, right?"_

Misty sighed, resting her head in her spare hand. "Gary has been a mess since it broke two weeks ago. He hasn't looked at it, and he hasn't asked anyone else to either. I think he's worried they'll tell him it can't be fixed. If you can fix it, it'll be my birthday/anniversary gift to him."

"_Right, you guys are coming up on one year pretty soon, aren't you?"_

"In two weeks, and yes, one crazy year, that's for sure," she said with a weak laugh. "So do you think you can do this for me? I'll pay you, of course."

"_We'll see what needs to be done, then we'll talk money,"_ he said. _"When would be a good time to come by?"_

"He works from eight til six during the week. If you could drop by any day around lunch time, I'll be there to meet you."

"_And you're sure Gary won't be around?"_

She shook her head, even though she knew Brock couldn't see. "He's been working through lunch the past week or so. I doubt he'll be shaking up his routine any time soon."

"_I'll be there tomorrow then," _he said good-naturedly. _"I have to go, Misty. No matter how hard I will it, this stack isn't shrinking."_

Misty glanced over at her own pile of unfinished paperwork and winced. "I know what you mean."

"_Don't let me keep you then," _Brock said with a laugh. _"I'll see you tomorrow?" _

"Tomorrow," she confirmed. "Thanks again."

"_No problem. See you then!" _And he hung up.

Misty replaced the phone on its cradle and leaned back in her seat with a satisfied sigh. At least that was one thing less to worry about. Now, what was she going to do about swaddling herself in skimpy lace?

**-XXX-**

Gary cracked an eye the morning of his birthday and grinned. He cast another quick thank you to whoever was listening (for he had done that quite a bit since finding out what days these events fell on) for the lucky fact that his birthday and their anniversary fell on a Saturday and Sunday. No work, no interruptions. Nothing.

While the two events technically fell on separate days, he and Misty liked to believe that it had been on his birthday that their relationship had changed, even though the… _ahem, _formalities had taken place the following day. While he rather liked the idea of rolling both events into one, he liked even better the idea of stretching them over two to draw it all out. If he had his way then neither of them would be leaving the bed at all for the next two days except for the occasional bathroom and food break.

He rolled over and caught Misty around the waist, pulling her to him. She mumbled something incoherently and let out a little whine before snuggling further into his chest and promptly falling asleep again.

Gary sighed and smiled indulgently, running his hand through Misty's soft locks and gently untangling the knots. "Red, it's time to wake up."

"Mmmphh."

"Hmm. Eloquent as always. But really, it's time to wake up."

She wriggled again. "Don' wanna," she mumbled.

"Have you forgotten what today is?"

She yawned loudly and rolled out of his arms. "No, I remember. Living with you just wears me out. Don't know how or why I've been doing it for the past six months, frankly. Must have something to do with that pancake recipe of yours."

He laughed. "Will the promise pancakes tempt you awake, then?"

She opened one eye and smiled at him. "No, but the look on your face when I give you your present might."

He scowled playfully. "I have no plans to leave this bed today, thank you very much."

"Too bad, I do," she cheeked back with another yawn as she threw the blankets off her body. Immediately she shivered as the cold air of their bedroom hit the exposed flesh of her arms and he smirked, reaching out to drag her to him again and missing when she stood up.

"Come on!" he whined petulantly. "Stay!"

"I guarantee you, there's something even better downstairs," she said with a wink before stepping into her slippers and disappearing out the door.

Grumbling to himself, he tossed the blankets to the floor and left the safe, warm confines of the bed and made his way to the bathroom, making as much noise as he possibly could along the way to show his displeasure.

He stomped down the stairs and found Misty leaning against the front door. She was dressed in a warm coat, and she was holding a strip of fabric out to him on one finger.

"Put this on," she said cryptically.

"What's it for?" he asked, taking the strip from her and turning it over in his hand.

Misty rolled her eyes. "It's a blindfold, silly. Put it on."

"Kinky," he said with a smirk as he tied the fabric around his eyes. He felt Misty waving a hand rapidly in front of his face.

"Can you see that?" she asked.

"No, but I can feel it," he replied cheekily. "You're kicking up quite the breeze." He felt her flick a finger against his nose and winced. "Ow."

"Put this on," he heard her say moments later from behind him. She held a thick coat around his shoulders and waited for him to slip his arms through the sleeves.

"Where exactly is this surprise?" he asked as he fumbled with the zipper at the front of the coat.

"It's outside," she replied, taking one of his hands in hers. "Follow me. Your shoes are still outside too."

She helped him slip his socked feet into the waiting boots on the doorstep and took his hand again, leading him over the freshly fallen snow to the car shed that Gary hadn't set foot in in almost a month.

They came to a halt in front of the shed door. Misty let go of his hand and dug around in the pocket of her flannel pants, fishing out a small silver key. She inserted it into the door lock and pushed the door open, wincing at the loud groan the rusty hinges gave.

"What are we doing in here, Red?" Gary asked suspiciously.

She took his hand again and led him over the threshold. "Trust me, Gary, you'll love this."

Misty reached up and deftly untied the blindfold and let it float to the ground. She watched with a grin the way Gary's jaw dropped on seeing Cherry once more. Brock had done an excellent job; in addition to the work he had put in to get the car in running condition again, he changed the tires and put on new rims, buffed and waxed the exterior to an impressive shine, replaced parts of the interior that had seen better days and even added new personalised license plates that simply read 'CHERRY'. All in all, she looked brand new.

"The plates are Brock's gift," she said tentatively when Gary had not said a word.

Gary's eyes raked all over the car, an expression of astonishment settling on his features as he moved forward and ran a finger over the edges, stopping at the new ostentatious hood ornament that Brock had also had the foresight to get replaced; Cherry hadn't had one before. He fingered the silver figurine and studied it intensely.

"Are you alright?" Misty asked, walking forward to rest a hand on his arm. Looking up at his face she was shocked to see a lone tear falling down his cheek. "You don't like it?"

He spun around quickly then and looked at her with something she couldn't quite place. Before she could question him further he grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her to him in a massive hug.

"I love it," he whispered into her hair, pressing a quick kiss to her crown. "And I love you." He pulled away with a brilliant smile on his face and moved his focus back to the car. "When did you do this?" he asked wonderingly. "How did I not notice?"

"I got Brock to help," Misty said with a smile as she watched him inspect the car with an almost childish excitement. "He came over and said he could fix her, so…"

"Where was I?" Gary asked, opening the driver-side door and sinking into the seat. "Oh, hell yes," he added in a murmur as he sunk into the new leather.

"At work," she replied, moving closer to see the improved interior. "I got Brock to come over when I was here for lunch. He was always gone before I got back."

He looked over at her apologetically. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I shouldn't be working through lunch."

Misty sniffed. "If you hadn't this wouldn't have been a surprise, and you'd probably still be wallowing."

"I was scared they'd tell me she couldn't be fixed," he said quietly. "I know it's stupid, it's just a car and all, but I really think I would have been heartbroken if they'd told be Cherry wouldn't run again."

"At least you don't have to worry about that," she said with a smile. "Do you want to see how she drives?"

He grinned like a little kid at Christmastime when she handed over the keys and immediately switched on the ignition, closing his eyes and listening to the purr of the engine as it turned.

"Fucking perfect," he breathed. He turned to face Misty with a devilish smirk. "You coming?"

"This one is all yours," she told him as she stood back. "I'll hop the next one."

He revved the engine a few times for good measure before pulling the car out of the shed and down the driveway at a speed that had him gone within seconds, though his whoop of joy carried on the breeze. Congratulating herself on a job well done, Misty turned back inside the house and peeled off her coat, settling down on the couch to wait for Gary's return.

She didn't have to wait long. Five minutes later, Cherry reappeared, taking pride of place in the driveway instead of being locked inside the dingy, spider-web infested shed.

She was pretending to read a book when Gary entered.

"Miss me?" he asked with a grin as he hung his jacket back on the stand near the door.

She sniffed. "Why would you think I was missing you at all, Oak? I could simply have been sitting here, enjoying the silence."

"Except we both know that isn't true," he returned with a smirk as he threw himself upon the sofa next to her and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. "You were positively pining for me and you know it."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," she said with a snort, putting the book down beside her. "So, how does she run?"

"Like a dream come true," he said happily, pulling her in for another kiss. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, but I think Brock deserves a little of the credit," she murmured. "I didn't actually do anything except pass him tools when he asked for them. After he told me what they all were."

"But if you hadn't said anything, Cherry would still be sitting in the garage gathering dust. Besides, tool-passing is very important."

"Hmm, I suppose I did save him from having to bend over on occasion."

"See? And you parted with the money to have it done. Just because you didn't physically make the gift, or in your case, do the repairs, doesn't make it any less significant, otherwise my gift to you would be a piece of crap too."

Misty rolled her eyes. "I don't know why you won't just give me whatever you're planning to give tomorrow. It's your birthday; you should be the only one getting presents."

"I think you coming to your senses deserves some sort of congratulations on your part too," he said cheekily, producing a thick, white envelope from his pocket and passing it to her before wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her closer to him. "Even if it did happen on my birthday."

"I suppose being crazy enough to stick with you for a whole year does warrant some sort of praise," she said with a smirk. Carefully she slid a finger under the sticky tab of the envelope and pulled the contents out. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped on reading the contents.

"Are you serious?" she breathed.

"I figured we might be able to knock off one of your fantasies," Gary murmured against her temple. "I did some work in Kalos a few years ago; it's a nice place. I never actually went to Snowbelle City while I was there, but I was told the chalets there are fantastic, all fur rugs and roaring fires, just like you pictured. Perfect if you just want to go away and just forget about the world for a while."

"When are we going?" Misty asked, still not looking up from the tickets in her hand.

"Whenever you want," he replied, pressing little kisses along her cheek and hairline. "There's no set date. We can go tomorrow, next week, next year."

She spun in place and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she said with feeling. "I can't believe you remembered … when did you do this?"

"Not long after you showed me how to skate," he said as he manouvered her onto his lap, his fingers teasing the hem of her shirt and barely brushing against the soft skin of her waist. "They were going to be a Christmas present, but I thought in the end it really was a gift for both of us, so…"

"Sneaky," she murmured softly, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. "Worried I'd take someone else if you gave them to me for Christmas?"

"Not even a little bit," he confidently replied as he slipped a hand beneath the waistband of her flannel pajama pants and teased her warm, wet seam over her underwear, relishing in her delighted gasp. "No one else knows you like I do, Red."

"It's more of a gift for you than it is for me, isn't it?"

"Red, as long as we get to tick off your absolutely delicious little chalet fantasy," he spoke between chaste pulls of lips, "and any others you might come up with, then I'd say it's definitely a gift for the both of us."

"Anyone ever tell you you've really got a one track mind?" Misty remarked jokingly.

"I'm a man," he retorted as he pulled her singlet over her head and exposed her breasts. He immediately latched on to a hardened nipple, tracing around it with his warm tongue. "I know I have a one track mind."

Misty's hands toyed with his hair before falling to his shoulders and down his arms to the hem of his thin t-shirt. His mouth left her nipple with a soft pop and he raised his arms so she could pull the shirt away.

He pulled her off him and quickly stood to remove his pajama pants before sitting back down and yanking Misty's pants from her, to which she let out a surprised squeal. Chuckling darkly, he helped her swing her legs over his so she was straddling him once more and held her close to him, pressing their heated skin together as his lips found hers again.

He held her hips steady as sunk down onto his length and groaned. "Oh, _fuck_. Happy Anniversary, Red."

She gave a satisfied little moan in agreement as she pulled back up only to slide back down again, repeating the motion again and again until they were both panting for release. "Happy Birthday, Gary."

**-XXX-**

For a man travelling by himself in a constant state of depression and near malnutrition, Tracey Sketchit was certainly a difficult man to track.

Over the past few weeks he had proven tricky, elusive, and not at all helpful or even entertaining. The smallest things seemed to set him off; the sight of any body of water that contained frolicking water Pokémon was one that seemed particularly heartbreaking. If they hadn't both had the importance of this mission drilled into their heads by their incredibly irate boss they likely would have given up on the whiny little artist ages ago.

In addition to being as dull as dishwater, he wasn't giving them a damn thing! As time wore on it became clearer and clearer that it wasn't going to be as simple as just waiting to be led to their target. Hell, it was highly disputable at this point that Sketchit even knew the target! At one point too he seemed to as good as vanish off the face of the earth, and still there was no need to be excited. They re-established their trace on him weeks later, finding him all broody and introspective on one of the smaller islands of the Orange Archipelago, still clutching his sketchbook to his chest as though it were a lifeline.

Despite numerous pleas to their boss, they weren't allowed to make direct contact. To do so, apparently, would give their target a heads-up, possibly delaying the long thought-out plan even more than already necessary. No, any contact they made would be a last resort, meticulously planned to the very last detail to ensure that there would be no suspicions raised.

However, both Mac and Potts were of the opinion that raising suspicions was exactly the way to go. Stealth clearly wasn't working for them.

It wasn't helping matters at all that the team working opposite them had already accomplished their goals, and in record time for a Team Rocket hit mission too. When it had been announced that the other team, comprised of new Rocket darlings Walters and MacNair, had successfully taken out their target in the former Sunyshore City lab manager Sam, it was all Mac and Potts could do to just dissolve through the floor to avoid the spraying that would surely be aimed their way if they were to step forward and detail to their boss their own complete and utter lack of progress. Ineptitude in his ranks was not something the boss looked too kindly upon, if the fates of former Rockets Jesse and James were anything to go by. What happened to them became a cautionary tale spread in the dead of night by new recruits, a gross reminder of what might happen to you if you stepped out of line.

The only saving grace thus far keeping them from going the same way was the quick identification of the woman in the sketch they had retrieved from the lake.

Both were absolutely kicking themselves that they hadn't recognised her before, that they had to be staring right at the latest copy of the bi-annual Pokémon League newsletter to work it out. Why they hadn't made the connection sooner that bloody _Misty Waterflower_ was a known friend of both Tracey Sketchit and their target was a question that both hoped they would never be asked, but it was certainly something both believed they could use to their advantage.

And it was also the reason they stood before their boss once more. If they weren't allowed to engage Tracey, maybe they would be able to change their tactics to focus on the girl.

The room they stood in was damp and drafty, the only source of light coming from a flickering lamp on the boss's desk. Since the incident at the Sunyshore Lab, Team Rocket was in financial ruin; an undercover operative dead, another missing, and another six taken into custody and sentenced to ten years each in the Saffron City Maximum Security Prison, the minimum sentence for anyone found to be aligned with Team Rocket. The attack and subsequent publicity brought Team Rocket back to the forefront of the publics' mind and forced them even deeper underground than ever before.

The Team Rocket boss sat at his desk, a half empty bottle to one side and a lit cigarette in an ashtray on the other, his fathomless blue eyes staring at them as though he could see right through them. He was still a commanding presence, yet also the picture of a broken man on the verge of losing everything, hell bent on retribution even if it didn't bring back all he had lost. With how long it was taking for the first steps in their plan to unfold, no one could be sure how long it would take before the man became completely unhinged in his search for revenge.

Mac was born with just the right amount of ruthlessness and cunning to be able to eye the boss with a cautious degree of respect and borderline admiration. Potts, on the other hand, was a seasoned veteran who had seen too much, who had seen exactly the sorts of things the boss was capable of, who found it difficult to look the other man in the eye.

"Well?" the imposing man drawled in his low, silky voice. "Why are you both here?"

Squaring his shoulders, Potts bravely stepped forward. "We've come to suggest a change in plan, sir."

"Oh?" their boss said indolently, his fingers tracing the rim of a glass filled with amber liquid. "And what sort of change do you propose?" he asked in a slur.

"Sir, Sketchit is giving us nothing," Potts said in a pleading tone. "We wish to go after the girl."

"And why would the girl be any different?"

"Because, sir," Mac said as she stepped forward, "we are certain she would have stronger ties to Oak than Sketchit does. He has made no move to contact Oak in all the time Potts and I have been tailing him."

Their boss looked to be deep in thought. He took several long sips of his drink and refilled the glass before speaking again. "There are plans in place for the girl. However, a compromise, perhaps? One that will require an addendum to your reconnaissance mission."

Mac and Potts stepped forward eagerly, unaccustomed to seeing their boss in such a placid state. "Yes?" they said in unison.

"The paltry information you two have gathered thus far indicate Sketchit has a particular fondness for the Waterflower girl. He perhaps even loves her."

Mac and Potts nodded quickly for him to continue.

"You will engage Sketchit in any way that is necessary to complete your mission. If he does not immediately reveal the Oak boys' location you will threaten the life of the girl until he cracks."

"But surely it's not so simple?" Potts questioned apprehensively. "If it were so easy, why weren't we allowed to do this months ago?"

"Because the plan in place hinges on being done neatly and without arousing suspicion," the boss replied in a clipped tone. "We have enough problems at the moment without adding to the pile unnecessarily."

"So, what's changed?" Mac asked. "If we engage now, then we draw attention to ourselves and risk Sketchit telling Oak what he told us."

"Ah, but that's where Potts' experience as one of my foremost covert operatives comes into play." He turned to Potts with a shark-like grin. "I trust you understand what is required of you?"

Potts took a long, deep breath and nodded.

"Good," the boss replied, taking his glass in hand and swiveling his chair around so he faced the wall. "I don't want to hear from either of you again until your mission is a success. I trust I don't have to warn you that the consequences shall be… most unpleasant, if you fail once more?"

"Yes, sir," Mac and Potts replied in unison before instinctively falling into a low bow. Regardless of whether or not their boss could see, they had been brow-beaten early in their careers into showing the appropriate reverence before the man.

With an elegant wave of his hand, they were dismissed.

"What is required of you?" Mac asked as soon as she was sure they were out of earshot. "What was he talking about?"

Potts grunted and quickened his pace. "Very soon, there is going to be a mess I'm going to have to clean up."

Mac jogged to keep up. "A mess?" she repeated, her nose wrinkled in distaste. "Why do you have to clean it? What's so special about the mess that you're the only one –"

She paused when they stopped in front of a supply closet. Potts took a key from his pocket, inserted it into the lock and turned, slowly pulling the door open. Mac gulped loudly.

"Oh," Mac breathed. "One of _those_ messes."

**-XXX-**

Mac wasn't sure how to feel about the new direction their mission was taking. Reconnaissance was one thing; it was a simple task, a clean one, one that she was more than happy to tackle to further the endeavors of an organisation she had come to both idolise and empathise with. What their boss had suggested though… she knew one day it would be asked of her, had been told by many to be prepared for it, but now that she was faced with the prospect… now it made her blood run cold.

"Where did we leave him?" Potts asked gruffly, cutting into her reverie.

"Um…" She pulled a wrinkled map from her pocket and unfolded it. "He was back in Kanto… he was on Cinnabar Island last week before we came back here."

"Think he'll still be there?"

Mac shrugged. "Probably, he tended to spend ages on islands when we were tailing him before. But even if he wasn't he'd still be on a ship. The boats in and out of Cinnabar, particularly the scenic ones, take an age to reach port, a week at least."

He grunted in acknowledgement and quickened his pace. "We'll need to fly," he muttered to himself. "Should be able to get there quickly if we borrow a helicopter…"

Mac broke into a light jog in order to keep up. "Potts, do we really have to do this?"

Again, Potts grunted. "I don't like it any more than you do, girly, but you heard the man."

"But surely there's –"

"There's no other way, Evie!" he growled, surprising her with the use of her given name. "Short of throwing him in a cave and sealing the entrance with a rock…" He trailed off and shook his head. "We can't risk it."

"But I don't think I can do it," she whispered, coming to a halt.

Potts stopped beside her and stared at her with an odd expression. He looked as though there was something he dearly wanted to say, but instead he sighed resignedly and shook his head. "It'll never get easier," he said simply as he clapped her lightly on the shoulder. "It'll make you sick every time, and it settles in your gut like cement when it's over and done with, but know that by feeling hesitation or remorse, you're more human than some of the other roaches in here who would relish getting such a task." He held a door open and waited for her to walk through it. "But in the end, it's me that's going to do it, not you."

There was something deep inside Mac that made her feel like maybe she should dispute that, but she couldn't bring herself to contradict the man who had become something of a mentor to her.

"That's not to say you aren't going to do your job," he continued as he followed her out the door and into the warm sunlight of a perfect Viridian City morning. "You're still going to be that snarky, mean-spirited bitch I know you are, because at the end of the day we still need something out of him, and that's your wheelhouse, girly, not mine."

All she could do was nod in response as they made their way back towards the unmarked car they had been using for the past six months.

"Even though you know what'll come after, don't hesitate. Be whoever you need to be to do what needs to be done. Get what you need, then get out." He opened the car door for her and she climbed in. "Otherwise it'll be both our heads."

**-XXX-**

_Holy crap, _Mac thought incredulously to herself as she watched from a picnic bench as Tracey Sketchit slowly ambled towards them. _He must have just walked off the dock._

It was purely coincidental; they had landed in Fuchsia City not even ten minutes ago, deciding to have a quiet lunch before proceeding any further in their task, and yet here the task as good as fell into their laps.

"He's behind you," Mac said quietly, still watching Tracey over Potts' shoulder.

"Who's behind me?" he asked, taking another large bite of his sandwich.

"Sketchit," she replied in a hushed tone. "He's behind you, looking at the bus schedules."

Potts froze immediately. "How far away is he?"

"About twenty, maybe twenty-five metres."

"Are there many people around?"

Mac's eyes skirted hurriedly over the scene. "Not many. Everyone's over at the dock or at the café over there. No one's looking this way."

He nodded again. "Tell me when he moves next, and in what direction."

He returned to his food as Mac kept watch, no longer interested in her own lunch; the knowledge of what they would be doing in possibly the next hour or so turned her stomach to such a degree that it was proving difficult to keep what she had already ingested down.

"Breathe, Evie," Potts said lowly, surprising her again. "Remember what I told you before?"

She took a deep breath in and nodded, successfully shutting out the part of her brain that was screaming out that everything they were doing was wrong.

"Now," she whispered. "He's coming straight towards you. About fifteen metres, ten… five."

"Keep watch." Abruptly Potts stood, withdrawing a cloth from his pocket. Quickly he seized Tracey by the upper arm, covering his mouth with the cloth until his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Is that what I could smell in the chopper?" she hissed as she followed Potts dragging Tracey's limp body to a secluded area surrounded by tall shrubs. "What the hell were you thinking carrying that on you?"

"There wasn't enough on it for either of us to get dizzy," he said with a grunt of effort. "He won't be out for long. One good mouthful of what's on this only knocks you out for a few minutes."

He dropped Tracey to the grass and moved to sit on a tree stump. Potts removed a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and removed one before offering her the pack. She took one out as quickly as her shaking hands would allow and brought it to her lips, taking Potts' offered lighter and igniting the tip. Mac took a deep inhale and sighed.

"How long?" she asked wearily.

"About five minutes, maybe," Potts replied, taking a long drag of his own cigarette. "Didn't know you smoked," he commented.

"I didn't always," she replied, blowing out a long train of smoke. "I only smoke when I'm stressed. It takes the edge off."

Potts snorted derisively. "It's a filthy habit."

Mac took in another lungful and let it out slowly. "I know."

A tense silence fell upon them as Tracey began to moan and writhe on the ground between them. Mac stiffened in place as Potts strode forward and took him roughly by the shoulders and manouvered him into a sitting position against the trunk of a tree. Before Tracey could fully regain consciousness, however, Potts removed several lengths of thin cord from his pockets and wrapped them tightly around Tracey's wrists and ankles.

"Where… what happened?" Tracey asked groggily. He struggled weakly against his bonds. "Why can't I move?"

Potts glanced over at Mac with a pointed expression and nodded towards Tracey before stepping back. Mac took a deep breath and assumed the cold-hearted, flippant character she knew she would need to adopt to be able to complete this mission.

She inched closer to Tracey and kneeled down on the ground in front of him, stubbing her cigarette out in a patch of sand beside her. He looked up at her with hooded eyes and asked again, "Why can't I move?"

Mac sighed internally and eyed her charge. "Because I don't want you moving."

Tracey stared at her, confusion washing over his features. "Why not?"

Mac rolled her eyes. "Because I want something from you. Something I can't very well get if you run off."

"Oh, alright." Tracey nodded slowly, the chemicals he had inhaled were clearly still affecting him. "Wait… what?"

Mac rested back on her haunches and crossed her arms. "Maybe we should wait a bit," she said to Potts. "He's obviously still pretty out of it."

"I do feel woozy," Tracey muttered.

"Or you can just do it now, before he realises what he's telling you," Potts replied with a shrug. "We can get this done and over with nice and quickly, he'll hardly know what hit him."

Mac winced at the reminder but forced her misgivings to the back of her mind as she turned back to Tracey and said, "We've been following you for six months, you know."

"You've been following me for six months?" Tracey repeated incredulously, his eyes fluttering nervously between the two "Who are you people? What on earth do I have that you could possibly need?"

"We want to find someone, you know where they are."

Tracey gave her an odd look. "And you thought I'd just go visiting?"

"Something like that," Mac replied evasively. "But you haven't spoken to anyone at all these last few months, have you, pet? Why is that?"

Tracey shifted awkwardly. "None of your business," he muttered indignantly.

"Was it for the same reasons that for the past six months you've been content to cry over random bodies of water? Do the lakes make your tears feel insignificant?"

Finally the grogginess appeared to be wearing off, as Tracey leaned forward and looked her in the eye. "None of your business," he repeated tightly.

"Now, Mac," Potts said from the side. "Do it now."

Mac gave an imperceptible nod and moved forward until she was almost nose-to-nose with Tracey, and asked in what she hoped was a low, menacing tone, "Where is Gary Oak?"

Tracey was caught off-guard. His lips twisted distastefully when he asked, "What on earth do you want with _him_?"

"None of your business," Mac parroted. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," he replied, lifting his chin defiantly. "I haven't seen him in months."

"Yes, we worked that part out ourselves, thank you," she said primly. "But from the look on your face, I'd say there's no love lost between you and the Oak boy." Mac produced from her pocket the sketch of Misty they had taken from the river six months ago and held it up for Tracey to see. "Something to do with her, I assume?"

Tracey's eyes widened. "Where did you get that?"

"I picked it up during my travels," she replied nonchalantly. "I bet if I looked in your backpack I'd find a lot more drawings of her, wouldn't I?"

His mouth opened and closed several times before he settled on saying nothing.

"Fortunately for my partner and I," Mac continued in a slow, deliberate tone, "we know who, and where, this young lady is."

"What do you want with her?" Tracey snarled through gritted teeth as he pulled futilely at the ropes binding him.

"Nothing in particular," Mac said with a shrug. "The real question is what are you willing to tell us to keep her safe?"

The threat was left implied, hanging thickly in the air.

"Don't hurt her," Tracey begged, his eyes wide with horror and understanding. "Never her. Please."

"Then talk," Mac snarled as Potts moved forward to stand beside to her. "So long as you talk, nothing happens to the girl. Where is Oak?"

"I don't know!" Tracey cried. "It's been so long… I don't know where he is now. He could be anywhere!"

"Then where was he before?" Potts roared impatiently, leaning down and sending droplets of spittle into Tracey's face. "Now Sketchit, before I really lose my patience."

"Pallet Town!" he squeaked fearfully. "I last saw him in Pallet Town. But that was six months ago, and he and Mist –" He stopped suddenly, as though he knew he had said something he shouldn't.

"What did you say?" Potts asked, a dangerous lilt in his tone.

Tracey's mouth became a tight line, and he shook his head fervently.

"I knew we should have gone after the girl!" Potts exploded, pacing up a storm as Mac and Tracey looked on, the former in bewilderment and the latter in horror. "Jesus, we blow six months on this arsehole, and it turns out the girl we elected to do nothing about was fucking Oak the whole time!"

"The boss said there were already plans in place for the girl," Mac reminded him mildly, "that she was part of the bigger picture."

"Please," Tracey spoke softly. "You aren't going to hurt her, are you?"

"I'm not going to hurt her," Potts said placidly. "And I don't think Mac here will either. Doesn't mean anyone else would be so accommodating, though."

"Look, I told you what I know," Tracey snapped as he pulled on the ropes again, growling in frustration when the knots wouldn't budge. "You said she'd be safe if I talked, and I did."

"Yes, and I thank you," Potts conceded with a melodramatically low bow. "But I wonder, what happens with you now?"

Whatever bravado that had been building up in Tracey disappeared. "What do you mean, what happens with me?"

Potts gave Mac a warning look and a slight nod, telling her silently that it was time. She paled considerably but gave the barest incline of her head and looked over at Tracey with an almost apologetic look before moving to stand watch through the thicket of trees that were hiding them and what they were about to do from prying eyes.

"What I mean is if I let you go," Potts continued, and she could hear him moving about, "the first thing you're going to do is blab. And for you to make a big production over what happened here today is the last thing the boss needs."

"The boss?" Tracey repeated with a little whimper. Potts must have been bearing down on the little wimp. "What… who are you people?"

She heard the muffled sloshing of liquid, but nothing to indicate that any water had fallen to the ground.

"Isn't it obvious? We're Team Rocket."

"No way are you Team Rocket," Tracey denied. "Team Rocket isn't like this."

The air was suddenly filled with a sickly-sweet chemical smell.

"We aren't what, exactly?" Potts challenged. Mac turned slightly to watch him kneel closer to Tracey, something concealed in the palm of his hand. "Team Rocket has come a long way from the days where morons like Jesse and James represented our organisation. Now, we are truly a force to be feared."

Tracey whimpered again and pulled violently against his restraints in another desperate bid to free himself.

"And unfortunately for you," Potts continued, "if we want it to stay that way… well, you're far too big a risk to have running about." And with that, his hand was pressed firmly against Tracey's face, leaving him with little choice but to deeply inhale the fumes coming from the cloth wet with chemicals.

It was a curious thing to an onlooker, to watch the life drain from someone's eyes and the short struggle as someone weakly warred against death before it claimed them forever. Mac found herself staring, knowing somewhere in the back of her mind that she really shouldn't be watching but unable to turn away.

His violent thrashing slowed and finally came to a stop. Potts slowly pulled the cloth from Tracey's face and stuffed it inside his pocket again. His fingers felt Tracey's neck, looking for a pulse.

"It's done," he said simply, reaching over to untie the strings at Tracey's ankles.

Mac was silent. She watched Potts undo the ropes and lift Tracey's lifeless body by the feet, dragging him into a supine position.

"Now what?" she asked dully. "What are we going to do with him?"

"There's nothing connecting us to him," Potts said with a shrug, though he too sounded unsure. "We have no car, we can't take him back to the helicopter without someone seeing. We're going to have to bury him somewhere. It shouldn't be too hard to find a shovel; we went past a hardware store on the way here, I think."

Mac nodded mutely. Without another word she took some money from Potts' backpack and retraced her steps out of the clearing back and into the city. The bright mid afternoon sunlight somehow felt wrong as she found the store Potts had mentioned and paid for two shovels. Her feet carried her back to the clearing, though with the knowledge of what they were about to do it was as though she had no memory of the journey at all.

Wordlessly, she passed Potts a shovel and they ventured a little further into the patch of woods and began to dig. No words passed between them for hours as they dug Tracey a shallow grave. When it was deep enough Potts retrieved Tracey's body and rolled him into the hole, tossing his backpack in with him. They remained silent still as they began to shovel the dirt back over, one by one, slowly but surely covering his lifeless body from their view.

They patted the disturbed earth covering the makeshift grave in a poor attempt to hide what was underneath. Both knew it would only be a matter of time before the body was discovered.

It was nearing midnight before they left the woods, carrying their shovels over their shoulders. Fuchsia City was thankfully deserted when they found a helicopter waiting to take them back to Viridian City. Potts explained he had called the favour in while she was off buying the shovels.

The helicopter ride was quiet. Mac leaned against the side but found she couldn't sleep. As she was about to give up, a warm arm wrapped around her shoulders. She looked up to see Potts staring dead ahead. Slowly, she felt sleep wash over her, forcing her to relive what had just happened in vivid nightmares she knew she wouldn't soon forget.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Yeah, it's jumpy and ends abruptly – I couldn't add anymore! I'd have gone insane!

If it wasn't obvious enough, I don't know shit about cars. That part was intentionally vague because even if I tried to research it, I still wouldn't have known what the hell to look for.

As for the chloroform, I'm going to ask that you simply suspend your disbelief. But it is true that inhalation can cause death.

Anyway, I'm going to be moving house. I've been cleaning like a madman to get ready and finding time to write has been a challenge. The downside is that it will likely get worse before it gets better, and the long wait time will likely be the norm for a while. All I can offer is an apology in advance and hope you guys stick around. Besides, if I do say so myself, this story is turning out better than I thought it would!

As always, reviews are appreciated. Loved, even :)


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